The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1887-09-15
WHEN YOUR FATHER WENT TO WAR.
BY JAMES NEWTON MATTHEWS. MASON, ILL.

When your father went to war. Jennie, you were
but a child
A romping little rowdy running riotous and wild
In the maple-shaded pasture. where cottage
used to stand.
And we owned timbered forty Of the richest river
land
Yes, owned It--every inch of it-by labOr's hard
Decree
And none, we thought, in all the world were hap
pier than we.
Our cattle browsed the Summer hills, amid the
bluegrass deep,
And all the shady bottom-lands were snowy with i
our sheep;
Twas like tale of fairy lore the life that we lived
then,
When was barely twenty-six. and you were only
ten;
Love brought US peace and comfort till there rose
an evil star,
In the Summertime of plenty. when your father
went to war.
All Jennie, remember well the day twas late /
In June,
Your father he came riding home from town one /
afternoon,
And his face was pale and haggard as he reached I
the door, and threw
One arm around me, daughter, while he laid one
hand on you;
And as my senses faltered, and reeled in his en-
brace,
read the fearful meaning that was written in his
face
felt it in the bounding blood that beat against my
breast
I needed not q spoken word-too well knew the
rest;
And all that night in dreams heard the tramp of
marching feet
And far away saw the flags grow DINNER down
the street;
Twas long agoi but o, my heart has not out
grown the scar
Gods finger put upon it, when your father went to
war.
Then you and were left alone. We tried year
orso.
BY hiring help. to scrimp along, but couldn't make
il go;
The SprIng-Hood swept away the corn, the drouth
of Summer dried
The grasses on the uplands, and we had no crops
beside;
So we parted with the cattle that we could no
longer keep,
We sold the only team we had. ard traded off the
sheep;
And when the winds of Autumn shook the pipes
about the caves,
And in the woodland hollows piled the brown
When the hazelnuts were ripening in the old IA
miIiar eopse,
And the wild geese wedging southwark, far above
the maple-tOps,
We locked the dear old farmhouse up and closed
the pasture-bar,
And moved into the village, when your father
went to war.
Then Winter came-a dreary time-a night Of
hopes and fears,
On every hand the widows wept, and fell the
A reign of blood and ruinl Every day some pass
ing train
Brought back a load Of mangIed meu,-brought
back the coffined slain;
And. Jennie, o, my Jennie, ere the SHOWS of Winter
passed,
They bore your father back to us,-they brought
him home at last;
They sent him from the frozen hills, beside the
| Tennessee,
Borne down amidst the battle. where the bravest
| love to be;
They sent him back ruined man for life. alas,
| my child!
I turned away in agony. raved as one grown
i wild.
But why recall the story now: The years have
| drifted far,
And we've got used to trouble, since your father
| went to war.
The times have changed. We, too, have changed.
| Tonight the blue and gray
Sit round their fires, with lighted pipes and puff
their hates away
Sit spinning yarns about their camps, until the
drowsy stars
Put out their light and wave good night" across
the twights bars.
Although my heart be broken, and although my
hair be white.
And though the years have brought me but disas-
! ter in their flight.
| am wicked In my weakness, am cruel to COM
| plain,
| When yonder patient sufferer sits smiling at his
| pain
Sits grooming in the Autumn moon the ballads
made to praise
The Iuster of his daring in the old heroic days.
Sits dreaming. Jennie dreaming, of the battlefeds
that are
The glory of the ages. since your father went to
war.
little while-it won't be long, until the sol iers
come
And bear away their eomrade to the dead march Of
drum,
To the green hills over yonder where eternal tents
spread,
And pension bills are vetoed, in the domains Of
/ the dead,
Where justice is jester. and where glory counter
| signs
The muster-rolls Of freedom as the century de-
clnes;
Yes. child. to that Republic where no partisan is
| found.
Where tine private IS promoted and the potentate
diserowned.
Our loved one now is journeying; and as FOR you
and me
It matters not the pottersfeId our heritage may
-. | be;
The future frowns and threatens. but thank God 4
cannot mar
The glory that we garnered when your father wen
to
A.SMART ALECK."
1t is comical sometimes to see what an idiot a
fellow can be when he thinks he is doing some
thing particularly smart. In fact, it is usually
the case when a man thinks he is doing a
. stunningly smart thing he is making triple
plated ass of himself For example there is
man somewhere in Wisconsin, and we think
he is a postmaster, who does not like the course
, of THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE. He is not neces
sarily fool on this account. There are lots Of
: people who do not like The NATIONAL TRIBUNE
This does not indicate lack of sense SO much a
bad TASTE This particular smart Alecl in